


"Repeat"-"Little Feat"-"Fill the Loving Cup"--3 VVS7.5 Short Subjects

by fmlyhntr, jamelia116, Penny_P, Rocky_T, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [27]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crew as Family, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-11-01 23:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmlyhntr/pseuds/fmlyhntr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_P/pseuds/Penny_P, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: Sometimes life onVoyagercan be almost too exciting. At others,  it can consist of the following of long-established protocols and  routines during shifts, while off-duty life in the community flows on as it would just about anywhere. AsVoyagerflies ever closer to home, however, even the everyday routine becomes  precious...Three Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 "Short Subjects"





	1. "Repeat"

**Author's Note:**

> "Repeat," by Rocky: B'Elanna gave Tom a television a few years ago; but there are times she thinks he might love it a little too much...

**Repeat**   
**  
** **by Rocky**

  
B'Elanna let herself into their quarters, smiling in anticipation. After weeks of working conflicting shifts, she and her husband would finally have an evening free to spend together. Miral should be long since asleep for the night, and there were no slipstream problems, no aggressive aliens or interstellar conflicts, no extra Sickbay shifts--she smiled again as she wondered just what Tom would have come up with. A new holodeck scenario, perhaps, or maybe they'd just spend the time in their cabin...  
  
Reality hit when she rounded the corner and saw him sprawled on the couch watching television, a bowl of popcorn precariously balanced on his T-shirt clad abdomen.  
  
"Tom!"  
  
"Geez, you startled me," he said reproachfully, and attempted to stuff some of the fluffy white kernels back into the bowl. He picked up the beer can from the coffee table, shook it to assure himself there was still some left, and took a long pull. He glanced over to where she stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. "What?"  
  
"What? You have the nerve to ask me what? This is the first time in _weeks_ we've both been off duty at the same time and I come back to find you watching television!"  
  
"Well, what's wrong with that?" he asked defensively. "We hadn't made any plans--in fact, I thought you'd be pretty tired after all those double shifts in Engineering, that you'd appreciate the chance to just kick back and relax for a change."  
  
She shook her head. "Now why do I get the feeling that this is what you'd be doing even if I was still on duty?"  
  
Tom smiled, and patted the couch next to him. "Harry isn't as much fun to snuggle with, and Miral likes to hog the remote control." He looked at her expectantly. "Come on, Be, does everything have to be a big production? When's the last time we had the chance to spend some free time together?"  
  
"It's been too long," she conceded, "But still, this isn't exactly what I had in mind..." She gave up and sat down next to him. "What're you watching?"  
  
He flashed her a grin. _"Star Journey: Adventure."_  
  
B'Elanna sat bolt upright, dislodging his arm. "You're kidding. That awful tripe?"  
  
"Hey!" he protested. "What's wrong with it?"  
  
"Correct me if I'm wrong," she said, "But didn't you swear after the last episode that you were never going to watch it again? Didn't you say that the show's creators had totally negated and contradicted everything they'd been striving for in the early shows and had gone off in a completely implausible direction?"  
  
He waved her protests away. "That was before. Now the show's been taken over by new management, whose stated goal was to restore things to the same high level they were before."  
  
B'Elanna tried, and failed, to suppress a snort. "But this is still television we're talking about, right?"  
  
"Shh! It's starting!"  
  
"Of course," B'Elanna said, the barest trace of sarcasm in her voice, "You don't want to miss a minute of the continuing adventures of the intrepid woman captain, her most deadly adversary now turned loyal supporter, the dashing young pilot eager to prove himself..."  
  
"...and the feisty yet brilliant engineer who manages to come up with a new technological marvel each and every week," said Tom, his eyes on the screen. Then: "Oh, rats."  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"It's a repeat," Tom said, disappointment evident in his voice. "After all that, it's one we've already seen."  
  
"Oh, well," B'Elanna said, "Isn't that just too bad? But what can you do?" She mentally held her breath.  
  
Tom was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He looked over at his wife. "I don't suppose you'd like to watch it anyway? This one was pretty good, about the time the captain and the pilot de-evolved into..." He ducked to avoid the barrage of couch pillows. "I was kidding! Honest, B'Elanna, I was only kidding!"  
  
  


* * *


	2. "Little Feat"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"Little Feat," by Christina and Jamelia: **Will tonight be the night Harry Kim is finally able to achieve his goal of toppling the reigning Kal'toh champion of _Voyager?_

**Little Feat****  
****  
****by Christina and jamelia** **  
****  
  
**

_"I'm Gary Jones,"_ the tall blond human enthused from the big holographic screen over the bar.  
  
_"And I'm M'Tak," _the Klingon said with a loud roar. "_Welcome to the FBC broadcast of the Galactic Kal'toh Championships on Vulcan. Gary, over to you."  
_  
_"The excitement is palpable,"_ Gary said as the camera panned past the few Vulcans calmly mulling about. _"This once in a decade event brings top Kal'toh players from around the galaxy. Over the past seven weeks, all but two have been eliminated."  
_  
_"Seven weeks ago--"_ M'Tak cut in as the image switched to a Ferengi and a Bajoran player studying the Kal'toh shape in front of them. _"The elimination rounds began. Representatives from twenty-five planets and thirty-six Kal'toh clubs began playing this exciting, yet so logical game."_ M'Tak placed a microphone in front of a short Vulcan in shiny forest-green robes. _"So, how do you prepare for a game?"_  
  
_"I meditate for several hours,"_ the Vulcan said slowly, then he moved away.  
  
_"That was the reigning champion, here to defend his crown, Gary."_  
  
_"Many exciting games have been played over the past seven weeks. We have put together highlights of the most spectacular..."_  
  
"Computer, mute." In a soft voice that was almost a whisper, Harry added to Tom, "I thought you said you'd received the tapes of the entire tournament. This looks like we only got the final."  
  
Tom Paris, dressed in a decidedly loud Hawaiian shirt, sat across from the more sedately-garbed Harry Kim. Tom shrugged and murmured absently, "I asked for them all, Harry, but mostly they sent tapes of the last Olympics. At least you've got this one to study." Tom swiftly worked the controls of the PADD in his hand for several more seconds before a thoughtful expression spread over his face. "I wonder if anyone would want to place a bet on the outcome?"  
  
"Are you kidding? Everybody will be sure you saw the tapes beforehand."  
  
"True, but I don't have to bet myself. I can just act as the betting agent."  
  
"I thought you gave up such nefarious bachelor pursuits since you got married and had a baby," Harry noted.  
  
"Gambling has a long and illustrious history, Harry. I don't recall that marriage and fatherhood have ever been an impediment for a man to indulge in it every now and then--as long as it's kept within reason, of course. And by the way, B'Elanna had the baby, Harry. I was only there to catch."  
  
"That's not quite the way I heard it," Harry said, as Tom's smile broadened into a smug grin.  
  
"Maybe it was a little more than that," Tom agreed, as he glanced around the holodeck. At 1500 in the afternoon, few of the crew were observing the announcers' play-by-play. While Neelix's Resort had never been as popular as Sandrine's, the program still was set to run at least three times a week, mostly during the day shift. Volleyball on the beach was universally acknowledged by the crew to be a more satisfying game than the regular sports program version. Shouts and cheers occasionally drifted into the bar area from the beach, the only reminder to Tom and Harry that they were not alone in the program. At that hour, the handful of crew using Holodeck Two were using the courts, not the tables in the restaurant.  
  
"I think you're probably right about the betting, Harry. We might see some action when you meet Tuvok for the Kal'toh championship, though. Too bad Seven isn't here to add a little drama. At least Icheb has been coming along well lately." Tom returned his attention to watching the tape, just in time to see a Klingon player fling the table across the room. The Kal'toh shimmered midair and became a perfect sphere.  
  
"Ah, the Klingon gambit," Tom nodded slowly, like a wizened sage on a mountaintop.  
  
"As if you know anything about the game!" Harry snorted.  
  
"Don't need to know about 'the game.' I know 'Klingons.' Throwing things across a room is central to the culture. It's the way they do everything, Har."  
  
"I don't think throwing the table across the room is going to help me beat Tuvok in tonight's tournament."  
  
"Well, keep studying the tape. There's more highlights. And if that doesn't help, we'll put on the Olympics and see if some of those events help you. Javelin throw, maybe?"  
  
"Very funny, Tom," Harry said, as he turned the sound back on.  
  
M'tak's voice blared out. _"And how can anyone forget the first elimination round back in May." _The picture cut to a Ferengi and Rigellan player sitting under a wood shelter. _"Tonk made a brilliant move."_ The Kal'toh shimmered as the Ferengi player deftly moved one of the pieces. Suddenly a sphere formed. _"The judges ordered an examination of the tapes and discovered that Tonk had secretly added a piece. He was disqualified." _The Ferengi player stood up and pulled a phaser on the judge.  
  
_"A sorry piece of gamesmanship,"_ Gary said as the image switched to another set of players. _"The Ferengi government threatened to file a complaint, but considering the number of recent events involving Ferengi trying to steal Federation technology..." _  
  
_"Now to perhaps the finest move seen this season. Dr. Olivia Kowalski's gambit in the quarter finals,"_ M'tak said.  
  
_"Dr. Kowalski is from Baton Rouge on Earth,"_ Gary said, _"a theoretical mathematics professor at the university there. She discovered Kal'toh just five years ago and has been one of the leading players for the past three years. She claims Kal'toh is the purest math." _The camera moved in to where her left hand hovered just above the pieces.  
  
"Pure math? I love math . . ." Harry leaned forward, avidly watching the screen. Suddenly, he shouted out excitedly, "She's got it now! And I see exactly what she's doing, Tom! Wow, what subtle geometry! That's it! I can beat him now, Tom! I can! This is my night! I know it!"  
  
"Uh, huh. I've heard that before. But every other time..." Tom's comm badge interrupted him. Tom answered it with alacrity.  
  
_"Lieutenant Paris? Miral has awakened from her nap."_  
  
"Right there, Doc. Paris out." Tom picked up his PADD and took to his feet. "I'll be there to cheer you on, Harry, but right now I'm going to pick up my best little girl."  
  
"OK, Tom. Give her a kiss for me! See you tonight for the victory party."  
  
*  
  
As Tom strode down the corridor towards the Paris-Torres family quarters, his daughter babbling away in his ear, everyone he encountered spared a quick hello for him. Miral drew the bulk of the attention, however. She was the one to get a big wave, a funny face, or a "Hiya, there, Honey!" from the crew. Tom fondly remembered when the "Hiya, Honey's" were for Tom Paris, Ship Lothario--although that reputation was never as well deserved as most people still thought.  
  
He couldn't help feeling a slight touch of nostalgia for those days, but it was nothing compared to that which he was sure he would feel when the _Voyager_ crew had scattered throughout the Alpha Quadrant. Only a few more jumps now. Soon, the camaraderie and feeling of community that had transformed him from a lonely, bitter ex-con who hid his despair behind a snarky sense of humor to a confident, responsible officer, husband, and father--albeit with his trademark quips and sarcasm still intact--all that would be gone. Although he knew most of the credit for the change in him was due to the faith the captain, B'Elanna, and Harry had had in him, in a very real way he owed the entire crew of _Voyager_ for the happiness and self-esteem he now enjoyed.  
  
And much of his reward for this was his daughter. Tom truly worshipped the deck upon which she would someday walk. Not that she hadn't begun to walk; she'd actually started taking steps several weeks before. But after that exciting beginning, the very next day Miral took a nasty fall and cut her forehead on the corner of the coffee table. Ever since, Miral had become unexpectedly cautious about walking. She would only take three or four steps before grabbing onto a piece of furniture or a parent's leg.  
  
Tom had thought it understandable and was sure she'd come around fairly soon; but B'Elanna had become extremely worried. "Most Klingons are running around by the time they're seven months old. They never let a little bump on the head stop them."  
  
Tom had found this amusing for multiple reasons, most notably because B'Elanna, having made such a fuss about how Klingon their daughter might be before she was born, now was concerned Miral might not be Klingon enough! Needless to say, Tom had chosen to keep this particular observation to himself. He wasn't eager to find himself flung to the other side of the room.  
  
*  
  
As Tom and Miral entered their quarters, he said, "Hey!" in surprise.  
  
"Mama!" Miral cried out excitedly.  
  
"Hello, Sweeting." B'Elanna scooped Miral out of Tom's arms to give her daughter a quick hug before setting the squirming child down on the floor next to the table.  
  
_'Talk about nostalgia,'_ Tom thought, experiencing the slight pang he always felt when hearing B'Elanna use the affectionate nickname Neelix had used for Kes. Tom never could quite bring himself to use it himself, even though the name was perfect for his little girl. But he said only, "Gee, don't I get a nice greeting, too?"  
  
"Sure, Helmboy. Nice shirt . . ."  
  
"Thanks," he said blandly, puckering up to accept the kiss she belatedly offered him. "I'm surprised you're home so early. Beta shift is only just beginning!"  
  
B'Elanna shrugged as she went back to setting the table for a quick, replicated meal. "I'm afraid to say it out loud, but everything went right for a change. No warp core breaches, no plasma coolant leaks, no readings outside of acceptable tolerance levels...I'd think my staff had fudged the data to get off on time for the tournament tonight except I double-checked all the results myself. The ship is just about ready for the next jump the day after tomorrow. I figure we're due for a big emergency, right in the middle of the climactic part of the final, and Tuvok will still be champion."  
  
Tom groaned, "Don't even think that! No self-fulfilling prophecies tonight! Harry actually thinks he'll beat Tuvok this time!"  
  
"Delusions of grandeur, do you think?" B'Elanna laughed.  
  
"Well, he _has_ improved a lot. Icheb and Vorik are both getting really good, too. And the law of averages is bound to catch up with Tuvok someday."  
  
"Maybe not. Who knows how much longer...Tom? Are you listening to me?"  
  
In a whisper, Tom said, "B'Elanna, look!"  
  
Miral had cruised around the table, barely touching the chairs, as she often did, but she hadn't stopped there. With her gaze fastened unwaveringly upon the toy targ sprawled on the floor at the far side of the room and beside the couch, hesitantly at first, but then more quickly, Miral took a step, and then another and another, until she had practically run across the room. When she was close enough, she bent down to swipe at the toy with her hand. Overcompensating when she bent down to grab the targ, the child plopped down upon her cushioned bottom. Unperturbed, Miral sat on the floor, carefully tracing over her toy targ's facial features with an exploratory forefinger.  
  
"Miral! Honey, that was wonderful! You were running!" B'Elanna said, taking a step towards her daughter.  
  
Tom put out his arm and stopped her. "Wait, B'Elanna, let's see if we can get her to come back to us."  
  
Miral looked around at her parents, smiled a drooly grin, and then turned back to the targ and hauled it up by a back leg. With the unoccupied hand, Miral pulled on the edge of the couch, helping herself back on her feet.  
  
B'Elanna and Tom both crouched down and waved at Miral. "Come here, Miral! Come to Mommy and Daddy!"  
  
Miral squealed, apparently delighted by the funny way her parents were standing. Then, with the toy targ flopping with every step as it swung from side to side, she walked back the way she'd come, right into their beckoning arms.  
  
Dinner ended up being served late. The evening's planned entertainment was forgotten, replaced with two happy parents tossing a ball back and forth to their suddenly very mobile youngster.  
  
*  
  
"Welcome to the Eighth Annual Delta Quadrant Kal'toh Championship, except that since we're in the Beta Quadrant, I think we're going to have to change the name on the cup!" Janeway paused to permit the polite laughter to die down. "The eight participants seated before you now earned their places by their outstanding achievement in the preliminary matches. Please join me in saluting them, as well as all of the entrants for the entire tournament, for their efforts!"  
  
The applause was much more enthusiastic than the laughter for her weak joke had been, Janeway was glad to hear.  
  
"I regret I will not be able to remain for the entire match this evening. Commander Tuvok, Lieutenant Kim, and Lieutenant Rollins were all scheduled to be on the bridge this evening, so Commander Chakotay and I are going to fill in for them." Janeway paused so the expected chorus of moans could end before her final words.  
  
"I wish all of you the best of luck this evening."  
  
Janeway took a step back as Megan Delaney, the officiating referee and tournament organizer, took her place. Megan cleared her throat before announcing, "I declare this tournament open. The matches begin...now!"  
  
The crowd drifted around the perimeter of the four tables where the participants were seated. Tuvok, as top seed, was facing Noah Lessing, who had finished in the eight spot. Harry was playing Rollins. Susan Nicoletti was contesting Vorik, not only for the ship championship, but also for bragging rights in Engineering; while Icheb was across the table from Samantha Wildman. Naomi had confided mournfully to Janeway that she couldn't possibly enjoy their match, since she couldn't cheer for one without hurting the feelings of the other.  
  
With the attention of the crowd fixed upon the contestants, as was proper, Janeway felt she could slip away quietly to the doorway where her first officer was waiting patiently.  
  
At least, she assumed it was patiently, since she'd been afraid to meet his eyes while making her speech. At the door she looked up, saw that devastating grin of his, and pursed her lips to hold in her laughter until after they'd passed out of the corridor and into the turbolift. As the door closed, she poked him in the ribs and murmured, "Don't say it!"  
  
"Say what, Captain? About how sorry I am about making you miss the Kal'toh tournament?"  
  
"Oh, please...I actually enjoy playing the game, even though Tuvok flattens my ego every time he beats me--which is every time we 'compete.' But to watch others play? It's excruciating."  
  
"I'd rather watch paint dry, myself."  
  
"I'd rather do inventory. Truly. At least that's a constructive use of one's time!"  
  
"Well, Kathryn, after our bridge duty is over, I'm sure I can find something for us to inventory."  
  
She cocked an eyebrow. "Really? I thought we could 'read a few reports' together; but if you'd prefer an inventory, I could be persuaded. What did you have in mind?"  
  
The turbolift door opened, saving him from having to answer in any way but with his most wicked smile. She didn't really mind, though. She knew he'd more than make up for it later.  
  
*  
  
Tom entered the holodeck before B'Elanna, who was carrying a squirming Miral in her arms. Suddenly confident in her ability to get around, Miral had been unwilling to remain still in either of their arms the entire trip to the holodeck. She wanted to be down on her own two feet, no doubt running amuck throughout the ship_. 'Careful what you wish for, indeed,'_ Tom thought.  
  
Quickly surveying the room before tapping B'Elanna on the shoulder, Tom whispered, "Hey, look, B'Elanna. If Vulcans could sweat . . ."  
  
"Certainly looks like it! Nobody else is playing. This must be the final. I thought the captain and Chakotay would be here for this."  
  
"Maybe they're 'reading reports' again."  
  
"Tom!" B'Elanna murmured warningly, but with a smirk of appreciation.  
  
Tom relented. "Actually, they're on the bridge, covering for Harry and Tuvok."  
  
"Ah. Right. I'd forgotten. Look, there's Icheb, standing next to Naomi and Sam Wildman. I wonder how far he got?"  
  
"Iggy!" Miral called out, drawing the young man's attention towards the door.  
  
Stepping away from the first rank of observers around the central table, where Tuvok and Harry were seated across from each other, Icheb brushed by Naomi and approached the family. "Where were you, Tom? I wondered if something had happened when you didn't come."  
  
"Something did happen--nothing bad," Tom hastened to add, "but it did hold us up. I was hoping you'd still be playing when we got here."  
  
"I did quite well, but Lieutenant Kim defeated me in the semi-finals. Vorik lost to Commander Tuvok in the other match."  
  
"I'm sorry we missed it, Icheb."  
  
"It's all right, Tom."  
  
"How's Harry doing against Tuvok?" B'Elanna asked Icheb as she shifted Miral from one arm to the other so she was closer to her uncle "Iggy."  
  
"Extremely well. He has an excellent chance of winning," Icheb replied with a smile as Miral launched herself into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "He's playing a brilliant game tonight."  
  
"Thank Dr. Kowalski," Tom said.  
  
"I am unfamiliar with the name."  
  
"Earth mathematician. Harry watched a vid of her game in the championships."  
  
"Interesting," Icheb replied as he handed Miral back to B'Elanna. "I shall endeavor to see this vid."  
  
"Come by for dinner tomorrow and we'll show it to you," Tom said.  
  
"We've got something else to show you, too," B'Elanna added, beaming as she set Miral down on the floor a few paces in back of them. "Go on, Honey! Let Uncle Icheb see what you can do."  
  
As Icheb reacted to Miral's solo approach, Naomi and Sam turned around to see why he'd said, "Bravo!" Within seconds, other members of the crew had turned their backs to the game. Miral walked from one person to another, sometimes grabbing hold of a knee or two, but never losing her balance while her proud parents looked on.  
  
The pride turned to concern a minute later. "B'Elanna, do you see Miral? I can't find her in that forest of legs around Harry and Tuvok's table."  
  
"No, I can't. We'd better find her. I don't want her to get hurt again!"  
  
*  
  
Tuvok slipped the metallic sliver into the construct, causing it to shiver as it folded itself into another beautiful shape.  
  
Harry's lips twisted into a broad grin. He picked up a Kal'toh piece and tapped it on his palm absently. From the way Harry's eyes moved over the shape before him, Tuvok could tell he had already selected the location he intended to place it into the game. Finally he did so; the Kal'toh board swelled up and changed again, not into a perfect sphere, but into one of the precursors.  
  
Tuvok knew this particular precursor lead to its creator winning a Kal'toh match within the next ten moves 74.95% of the time, unless the opponent--Tuvok--did something truly foolish to make the shape collapse. There would be no benefit in that, of course. If the design collapsed due to a poor move on his part, Harry Kim would also win his first Kal'toh tournament, this time by default.  
  
It might not matter. Tuvok also knew he did not have a defense for the moves Harry was contemplating. A certain number of steps would need to be taken before the completion of the game. Unfortunately, Tuvok could see no shortcut by which he could intervene to "swoop in," as Mr. Paris might say, to be the one to complete the design--unless Mr. Kim made a mistake. Mr. Kim had made very few of those this evening.  
  
No, it was not looking favorable for Tuvok at that moment. To make matters worse, Tuvok's usually keen powers of concentration were being sorely tested by a commotion in the crowd to his right. At times like these, sharp Vulcan hearing was not necessarily an asset.  
  
Upon reviewing all of the options open to him, Tuvok selected a piece and reluctantly inserted it into the Kal'toh design. As the shape swelled up, the crowd around him erupted in a loud "Ah." Tuvok's expectations where not as high as the audience's, however. Momentarily spherical, the Kal'toh construct coalesced into another ovoid form.  
  
Stifling a sigh at his opponent's immediate grin, Tuvok set his elbow on the table, heedless of the game piece which slipped off its edge. The sound of the small Kal'toh piece landing upon the floor was muffled by the nervous shuffling of booted feet, which was sufficient to drown out the buzz of the watchers. Tuvok was not concerned about dropped item. The game would be over long before he would need it.  
  
Harry made his move, to another set of "ahs" from the crowd. Tuvok's reign as the champion Kal'toh player on _Voyager_ was about to end. Soothing himself into calmness, Tuvok reflected upon the fact that eight years as unbeaten champion was a record none of his colleagues could best, even if _Voyager's_ journey were to last another eight years. With slow, stately motions, he inserted a game piece. The change was minimal. The coup de grace must be only moments away.  
  
Harry contained himself with difficulty. In his moment of triumph he glanced around the table, making eye contact with Ensign Marla Gilmore as he picked up a game piece with a flourish. Harry moved his hand towards an opening in the side of the design, smiling confidently.  
  
But another hand suddenly emerged from beneath the table--a pudgy little fist which gripped the fallen Kal'toh stick, glimmering with an additional sheen as if it had been licked by a curious tongue. In paralyzed fascination, Tuvok watched the tip of the piece glide neatly into the hole that he, and, he was certain, Lieutenant Harry Kim would have used to finish the game. It was, however, not at the precise angle the Vulcan would have chosen, although it was surprisingly close.  
  
The stunned "ohs" from the crowd became groans as the construct expanded into a perfect sphere for a tantalizing second--before an unusual spark, like that of an electrical short circuit, snapped out of the shape in the vicinity of the final Kal'toh piece's introduction. The construct immediately contracted and collapsed into a pile of metallic splinters.  
  
"No!!!!" Harry howled in frustration. "I was going to win! I had the championship won! Tuvok! You know I should have won!"  
  
The Vulcan leaned back in his chair, conscious of a pair of small arms clutching at his knee at the moment of Mr. Kim's outburst. Tuvok's brow furrowed as he steepled his fingers in front of his face. "You may well have won if you had played your piece. But by the rules of Kal'toh, each move must be completed in alternating order--by the participants--or the game is forfeit. In this case, the entire game has been nullified by an outside agent."  
  
"No!" Harry cried out again, as Marla patted his shoulder consolingly.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry, there's always next time," B'Elanna said distractedly as she tried to look beneath the table top. "Have you seen my daughter? She must be here somewhere."  
  
Harry ignored B'Elanna's question. "Tomorrow! Yes! Tuvok, I demand a rematch! Tomorrow . . ."  
  
"I do not believe we will have the time for another tournament tomorrow, Lieutenant," Tuvok stated solemnly as he carefully maneuvered Miral out from beneath the table, his hand cushioning the top of her head to protect it from another unfortunate encounter with a tabletop. "However, if you wish, I will speak to the captain about scheduling another in a few more weeks."  
  
"A few more weeks! We might be home by then!" Harry moaned.  
  
"I will discuss it with Captain Janeway." From the tone of Tuvok's voice, it was clear that the subject was closed.  
  
"But . . ." Harry sputtered.  
  
"Harry, you're not presenting a very good example here," Tom clucked, carefully emptying his daughter's hands of the three Kal'toh pieces she had liberated from the playing surface. "We can talk to the captain about it tomorrow."  
  
Harry slumped back in his chair, shaking his head in defeat, while the crowd began to drift away--a lucky few collecting on bets which had stated Tuvok would "remain _Voyager's_ Kal'toh champion" without specifying he would actually win the match.  
  
Tom and B'Elanna squatted next to their daughter. "That wasn't very nice of you, Miral," Tom admonished gently. "I never thought you'd start playing Kal'toh before you try out something easier, like . . ."  
  
"Like poker?" Mulcahey called out with a laugh.  
  
"Actually, I was going to say Pick-Up Sticks," Tom replied, with an amused glance in Mulcahey's direction before addressing his daughter again. "But you're even pretty young for that!"  
  
"That may be," Tuvok said, as he also crouched down next to the ship's youngest inhabitant. "However, I believe I must find an opportunity to begin your first lessons in Kal'toh very soon, Miral Torres Paris. It may be some time before you are able to successfully complete a Klingon Gambit move, but clearly, you are a 'natural.' "  
  
Miral answered him with a loud screech of joy.  
  
Tuvok nodded sagely. "Indeed."

_____________

  
  



	3. Fill the Loving Cup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Fill the Loving Cup" by Penny: **Meanwhile, back on New Pozja (You do remember New Pozja don't you?), a former member of _Voyager's_ crew sets parameters.

**Fill the Loving Cup**  
  
**by Penny**

Meanwhile, on New Pozja..  
  
_Are all men like this?_ the woman who still sometimes thought of herself as Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, wondered silently, _or just the one I have chosen?_ She did not remember her colleagues on _Voyager_ being so...so stubborn. So intractable. So illogical.  
  
The rainbow sky danced above the New Pozja colony, but for once she was oblivious to its beauty. Seven of Nine was experiencing something new: anger at her mate. Axum was being completely, totally and utterly unreasonable; and what was worse, he absolutely refused to recognize that he was being unreasonable. It was unacceptable. Surely not all men were like this.  
  
As she reflected upon it, she became increasingly certain that the men on _Voyager_ had been different; in fact, she recalled them now as models of reason and judgment. The Doctor always listened to her and always saw the merits in her position. Tuvok never disputed her logic. Tom Paris might have argued with her a little bit, but that was only because he liked to tease; he never really disagreed with her. Harry Kim always deferred to her better judgment. Commander Chakotay --  
  
Her train of thought stopped abruptly. It was possible that she was allowing her current mood to influence her memories. Commander Chakotay had disagreed with her on more than one occasion and refused to accept her recommendations. And it was undeniable that she had quarreled occasionally with Lt. Torres and Captain Janeway. Still, none of them had ever caused her respiration to accelerate, her voice to become shrill, or her heart to pump so furiously that she feared it would leap out of her chest, as Axum had made her feel only moments ago. All in all, they had been very satisfactory companions.  
  
Thinking of her former shipmates caused her to look upward, but instead of cheering her, the shimmering aurora only boosted her sour frame of mind. The nebula that hid and protected the colony also denied her a view of the stars. She could only imagine them, and only imagine where _Voyager_ might be. She had not heard from them since they began their slipstream attempts. It was possible she might never hear from them again. She did not regret her decision to leave them, but there were times – such as today – when she wished she could consult with them again. She felt very alone.  
  
"So." Axum spoke quietly, but he startled her nonetheless. She hadn't heard him come outside. "We've had our first fight."  
  
"I wasn't aware it was over." Her voice, she noted, sounded frosty. _Good._  
  
"Well, I'm done. And since most fights require two antagonists, I'd say this one is over."  
  
His sudden calm infuriated her. How dare he decide that the discussion was over? "I suggest you think again. I am not finished."  
  
"Annika -- "  
  
"Do not call me that. I am Seven of Nine."  
  
"No." His mouth flattened in displeasure, perhaps even anger again. "That is your Borg designation. Your _name_ is Annika."  
  
"Look at me." Her hand lifted, touched the implant above her eye. "Annika was a human girl. I am still Borg."  
  
He stared at her for three seconds, then four, then five, before speaking. "Appearances are irrelevant. All of us show signs of our assimilation. But we are no longer Borg, and when you say you are, you contradict everything we've been trying to build here."  
  
His eyes were as fiery blue as a bolt of lightning and just as intense, and she knew he was right about this and she was just being petulant. And it was extremely irritating to realize it. Then suddenly, his mouth curved upward. "Doesn't the fact that we're having this argument prove you're not Borg?"  
  
Oh, that smile. It melted her anger in seconds, and for the first time she considered the power of a simple masculine smile. Commander Chakotay had often used it to his advantage with Captain Janeway, she realized, and Lt. Paris had frequently disarmed Lt. Torres in the same manner.  
  
_Are all men like this_? she wondered again. His arguments were not logical, his position was flawed, and he refused to consider her point of view. And yet it was impossible to remain angry with him.  
  
Still, she thought of B'Elanna Torres and decided it might not be wise to let him know that just yet. "Perhaps," she said, keeping her voice cool. "It is true, you and I could not have argued like this when we were in the Collective. But -- "  
  
"Yes?" he prompted.  
  
"There was a poet from Earth's 20th century. He defined a husband's role in this situation."  
  
He must have sensed that she was no longer angry, because the tension eased from his shoulders. "Enlighten me."  
  
"I learned this from Lt. Paris. He was quite experienced in the matter of domestic disputes. The poet advised husbands, _'To keep your marriage brimming/With love in the loving cup, /Whenever you're wrong, admit it; /Whenever you're right, shut up!'"_  
  
Axum blinked, but then he smiled again. "Ah. A great philosopher."  
  
She remained serious. "Quite. And no argument is finished until certain rituals are fulfilled."  
  
"I see. And you know these because...?"  
  
She gathered her dignity. "I learned them from my study of Lieutenants Torres and Paris."  
  
"I see. What are these rituals?"  
  
Lifting her chin, she looked him in the eye and said, "First, you must apologize."  
  
"Apologize? For what? I did nothing wrong."  
  
"The male apologizes to the female," she said firmly. "Then he presents her with flowers."  
  
He looked at her skeptically, then went over to the hedge and plucked a large _elanor_ bloom. Holding it in both hands, he presented it to her. "I'm sorry. I don't know what for, but I'm sorry."  
  
Accepting the flower, she lifted it to her face. It not only let her enjoy the fragrance but also hid her smile. "Apology accepted."  
  
"Are we done now?" He was smiling again, and she felt the remnants of her resistance crumble. How could she possibly remain angry when he smiled at her like that?  
  
"No," she said. "According to my studies, the apology is followed by enthusiastic and prolonged interpersonal relations. This demonstrates that no ill feelings remain."  
  
He nodded seriously. "Ah. Very logical." Then he smiled again, and her heart melted entirely.  
  
"Come." She held out her hand and he took it. "Let's go in."  
  
He took her hand and followed her lead. "I like these customs. You will have to tell me more about human traditions. You know, I can't even remember what we were fighting about."  
  
She stopped and stared. How could he have forgotten? It began when she requested that he not leave his dirty socks on the bathroom floor, a request she had to repeat three times before he even heard it...no. It would be prudent not to remind him. "The topic is irrelevant."  
  
"Right," he said. "Quite right."  
  
_Are all men like this?_ she thought, then shook her head. _No. Axum is unique._  
  
_And he is mine. I am not alone._

_-end-_

______________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note: **The poem quoted (in its entirety) is "Advice to Husbands" by Ogden Nash, surely one of the wisest men ever born.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom/CBS own Star Trek lock, stock, and photon torpedo barrel. We don't. 'Nough said.
> 
> **Next up: "In the Trenches," by the Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 Writing Staff.** While the crew is busy mining kolander to replenish their dwindling supplies of the ore they need to support their slipstream travels, other sites in the system prove to be quite fascinating in their own way.


End file.
